


Titanium

by house_of_lantis



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris as Brad's PA. The one who's been with him for the whole crazy career ride, the scrambling and the eventual rise, and the crazy-ass demands, and the quirky celebrations, and the dating of Adam Lambert, and the scandal of Adam Lambert, and the break up with Adam Lambert, and the next morning pick-ups from the drunken "nostalgia" hooks up with the said Adam Lambert. (And then there's the part where Kris may be hopelessly, uselessly, calmly yet unproductively in love with Adam Lambert.) </p><p>Based on a prompt by akavertigo (aka temptress!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Am Titanium

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ladies of the KM list. This was just supposed to be a mini fic to get over my weird writer’s block writing Kradam fic. And now, it’s taken on a life of its own!
> 
> Don't forget to click on the links for fun video viewing! LOL!

**PART ONE: I Am Titanium**

 

Kris’s phone started vibrating on his bedside table and then began playing the opening notes of “Naked Love,” courtesy of Brad reprogramming all of the ring tones for everyone on Kris’s contact list – this one was for Adam’s personal number – and Kris suppressed the urge to scream a la “[Mean Girls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Sb0tELS8IE)” style and throw a tantrum that would give that freaking little diva, Bradley C. Bell, a run for his money. Instead, he opened his eyes, squinting from the bright LA morning sunlight – apparently, it wasn’t going to be a smog-filled morning today—and debated whether or not he should answer the call.

 

“ _Go away._ _Ohhhh-ohh-ohhh, go awayyyyy. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go awayyyyyy_ , _ohhhh go awayyyy_ ,” he sang with the ring tune, toes tapping along to the music. It really was a catchy song and it showcased Adam’s playful side, but not his powerful vocals.

 

The tune faded away as the call went to his voicemail. Kris smiled and closed his eyes again, turning on his side to burrow under his warm covers. It was Sunday and he had it written in his contract, at least three times, that Brad and/or Brad’s management and/or anyone affiliated with Brad couldn’t call him, text him, IM him, email him, blog him, snail mail him, tweet him, facebook him, tumblr him, KIIS-FM request line him (stupid Ryan Seacrest and his stupid mancrush on Brad), carrier pigeon him, fire call him (stupid Brad and his stupid _Harry Potter_ obsession; oh yes, Kris actually had to have that explicitly written in his contract), or sky write him for any reason, not even if Brad was dying in a ditch (“you call 911 for that, Brad, not me!” to which Brad replied, “but I made you take first aid rescue training!”).

 

The song started up again and Kris groaned, pushing his face into his pillow. Maybe if he could make himself pass out, he could just ignore it. But knowing Adam, he would hit redial again and again and _again_ until Kris picked up.

 

“What the ever living crap!”

 

It wasn’t even eight in the morning yet and Kris had gotten maybe four hours of sleep – or what was loosely defined as “sleep” – so he wasn’t in the mood for whatever bullcrap Adam was calling about.

 

The cheerful song started up again for the third time, so he grabbed the phone and answered the call, his sense of self-preservation kicking in because he knew for a fact that Adam would _only_ stop if Kris picked up. “Do I need to remind you, again, that I’m not your personal assistant and I have Sundays off? So there’s nothing on God’s green earth that requires you to call me this early in the morning. If you have a true emergency, you have an agent, a manager, five fairly competent personal assistants and two _very_ incompetent personal assistants that you only keep around because you fuck them when you’re not trying to hook up with your fans, which, to be honest, is a major sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen, a PR team, a design team, a legal team, a management team, and your label on speed dial.”

 

There was a long pause; Kris wondered if Adam might have dialed him by mistake. And then he heard the familiar soft chuckle. “But you’re still number four on my speed dial, baby.”

 

True enough; Kris was only after Adam’s mom, dad, and brother. Brad had dropped down to number nineteen after their last public and official break-up. But that didn’t explain or excuse Adam’s early morning call on his only day off.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Come get him.”  

 

 _Come get who?_ He wanted to ask, until he realized just the “who” it was. Kris stared at his ceiling. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

 

“I have a phone interview in two hours and he’s still passed out in my bed.”

 

“What’s he even – never mind, I don’t want to know,” he groused, sitting up and kicking off his sheets. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

 

“Great, thanks, Kris,” Adam said, his voice tinged with amusement.

 

Kris barely controlled the urge to throw his phone against the wall. He yawned and got out of bed, looking around the floor for his clothes.

 

***

 

After Brad and Adam had that screaming bitch fight in Nobu four months ago, their PR teams decided that it was time to put “Bradam” to bed and that they should officially break up. Both Brad and Adam were tired of the fan service and they wanted to see other people. For once, Kris was shut out of this decision (Brad stroked his head and told him, “it’s time to move on” while Adam handed him a beer and said, “better to just make a clean break rather than be labeled a cheater”) so he reluctantly agreed to go with it.

 

The story of their whirlwind relationship always made headlines. It was the perfect _E! Hollywood True Story_ in the making:

 

First, there was spritely Brad Bell: Internet darling, witty and adorable, scratched and clawed his way to gaining a fan base of several million YouTube followers, and catching the attention of illustrious Hollywood players looking for fresh, new material to develop. He had worked tirelessly to prove himself as a capable writer, a satirist, a humorist, an actor, a producer, a future showrunner.

 

Add to the mix, the gorgeous Adam Lambert: Theater darling, club kid, power vocalist, an overlooked talent, a frustrated understudy who upstaged every stage diva he performed with, the American Idol, Glam Nation, international pop star and fashion icon. He rose to the top and pretty much just stayed there.

 

Everyone loved them and their story because it worked, it was a romance, it didn’t threaten or intimidate anyone: They were these two gay kids who were each other’s first loves struggling to figure out how to have a deep and meaningful relationship in the midst of Hollywood make believe as they shed sweat, blood, and waterproof mascara tears to make it to the top of their respective careers. They broke up, got back together, and stayed together through it all, thick and thin, better for worse, best friends forever, yadda yadda yadda…

 

Kris had cleaned up, crafted, wrote, and approved most of their relationship “story” himself. He had made Brad’s and Adam’s family, friends, and everyone in between memorize the story – and any leaks that opposed Kris’s version of their history would be plugged immediately, the traitor caught and exiled from the inner circle.

 

_“He’s hot when he’s all fierce and bossy,” Brad whispered to Adam, clinging to his arm._

_Adam smiled. “He’s hot, period.”_

 

Because he had _known_ them, from back then, when Brad and Adam were just these two overly flirty guys who came into the West Hollywood Starbucks on Santa Monica Boulevard where Kris worked as a barista. He was eighteen, just graduated high school, and moved to LA to work on his music. Kris had a few friends, but Brad and Adam took him under their collective wing, introduced him to their wide circle of friends, and took care of him when times were hard. They constantly teased him – it was a competition to see which one of them made Kris blush the most – and after two years of seeing them four times a week, he finally relented and agreed to attend Brad’s _Halloween in July_ party.

 

_Kris stared at the invitation in his hand. It was in the shape of a pumpkin, a very glittery pumpkin, with handwritten details. “In July? What, you can’t wait until October?”_

 

_“Why should we? We live in the land of dress up, so why not have a costume party now,” Adam said, cheerfully._

_“That means that you dress up as something or someone you never would in real life,” Brad added, tartly. He eyed Kris’s jeans and tee-shirt. “So this is not appropriate for my party, Kristopher.”_

 

Not one to back down, Kris showed up wearing a pair of fairy wings and lacy white satin panties. Brad and Adam took one look at him and Kris had unknowingly cemented a friendship with a famous indie film prince and a glam rock star that had lasted the past ten years.

 

***

 

Adam had a gorgeous house that overlooked the downtown area in _The Summit_ , a posh gated community in Beverly Hills that had 24-hour security and concierge services. It was modest by Hollywood standards, but Adam wasn’t the kind of guy to show off his newly acquired wealth. Instead, he wanted something beautiful and private, a sanctuary where he could escape his obligations to the business and to his fans and live a somewhat normal life. The guards knew Kris by sight and opened the gates for him, waving him through, and Kris maneuvered his car around the curvy streets along Summit Circle Drive, passing Britney Spears’s house, and pulled into Adam’s drive way. He left his car in the front but walked to the back of the house because Adam kept his back patio door open for his friends. There was a joke in there somewhere.

 

“Adam! I’m here,” he called out, taking off his sunglasses and walking into the living room. Kris had spent enough time there to know his way around, feeling as comfortable there as he did at Brad’s house in Hollywood Hills.  

 

Adam wandered into the room wearing loose pajama bottoms and a white tank top. His dark hair was tousled and Kris noted that he was wearing eyeliner. “He’s upstairs.”

 

“Fine,” Kris muttered, walking through the house to the stairs and taking them two at time. His familiarity with the location of Adam’s master bedroom had nothing to do with the fact that Kris was ever invited up there, but more to do with finding Brad, getting him dressed, and taking him home.

 

_“Why do you do this to yourself?” Kris asked, two weeks after the official break up._

_Brad hunkered down in the back seat of Kris’s car looking frail and sleepy. “He’s a great fuck.”_

 

_Right._

 

Kris walked into the large bedroom and saw Brad sprawled on the California king, his slender arms and legs taking over the bed, barely covered with the midnight blue sheets. He was still wearing his black sock on his left foot – well, at least Kris only had to struggle to get the right one on, that was a plus. The room smelled like sex and alcohol and pot, so Kris opened the balcony doors to let in some fresh air. He walked around the room and gathered up Brad’s clothes and shoes, tossed haphazardly on the dresser, behind the chaise lounge chair, and along the carpet.

 

He ignored the four condom wrappers strewn on the bedding, the nearly empty bottle of lube on the bedside table, the condom covered dildo that was rolled halfway under the bed, and the leather cuffs hanging from the headboard.

 

“Brad, get up,” Kris muttered, grabbing Brad’s ankle and shaking his leg. “Brad!”

 

Brad mumbled something but otherwise didn’t bother moving. Yep, it was going to be one of those days where Kris was going to have to get him dressed and deal with Brad’s dead weight the whole time. He never imagined in all the years that he was Brad’s personal assistant that this was one of his major duties.

 

_“It’s nostalgic sex, that’s all. Don’t get your prudish nose so bent out of shape,” Brad said, smirking at him. “Every once in a while, Adam and I will hook up because it’s just so much easier to get what we need without having to deal with the civilians.”_

 

Civilians: non-industry people. People who didn’t know the game. People who would sell their stories to the tabloids.

 

Kris tossed Brad’s clothes on the bed and pulled off the sheet. He rolled his eyes, seeing the pink handprint on Brad’s ass, the multitude of finger bruises everywhere. If he didn’t know Adam and if he hadn’t heard Brad talk about their bedroom activities (“okay, seriously, don’t tell me what you guys get up to; in fact, don’t say _anything_ about it to anyone ever period!” Kris told him, to which Brad pouted and whined, “but Kristopher, he’s _so_ damn good in bed and I like to share, I’m a sharer!”), Kris would assume that Brad was horribly abused. He got the right sock on and didn’t bother turning it in inside out. He tugged up Brad’s burgundy briefs and then rolled Brad onto his back to the middle of the bed.

 

“Brad, come on, dude, a little help here,” Kris said, shaking him by the shoulder.

 

Instead of waking up, Brad curled up and gurgled out what sounded like a curse word. Even before Kris accepted the job of being Brad’s personal assistant, he was the one to always take care of him. He considered Brad to be his best friend and brother, and Kris wasn’t the kind of man to abandon his friends, even when all he wanted to do was kick his ass.

 

He took Brad’s legs and dragged him to the edge of the bed and worked one leg and then the other into the tight skinny jeans – for God’s sake, how the hell did he get into them in the first place – and Kris tugged and tugged the jeans up, breathing heavily now and getting a little sweaty from the exertion, trying to figure out how to shimmy Brad’s hips to get the jeans over his ass. Kris ended up flipping Brad back onto his belly and braced his knees on the bed, gripping the waistband of the jeans and tugging really hard.

 

Adam chuckled, leaning against the doorway, watching him. “This is one of my all-time favorite fantasies. Although, you’re usually naked and you’re undressing him on my bed.”

 

Kris rolled his eyes, sitting back on his heels with Brad between his legs. He didn’t have time for this. He glared at his other best friend and said, “are you just going to stand there and make fun of me or help?”

 

Adam grinned, blue eyes glittering with mirth, as he sipped his coffee from the hot pink “Rock Star” mug in his hand.

 

Brad let out a complaining moan when Kris finally got the jeans over his butt. He turned Brad on his back and stared up at the ceiling as he reached down to grip the front edges of the jeans, trying not to cop a feel as he got the zipper up and the jeans buttoned.

 

“Mmmm, baby, I can go again,” Brad murmured, curling one arm around Kris’s lower back and dragging him down on top of him, dry lips brushing against his temple.

 

“Cut it out, it’s me, doofus,” Kris hissed at him, untangling himself from Brad’s octopus arms. He grabbed the tee-shirt and managed to get both of Brad’s arms into the sleeves, tugging the opening over his head, and pulling the cotton down to cover his chest.

 

Kris let out a breath, picking up a black loafer and made sure it belonged to the right foot before slipping it on Brad’s feet. He stood up and ran his hand over his forehead, taking a look at a fully dressed but still unconscious Brad. Well, that was the _easy_ part.

 

“Do you have some coffee for him?” Kris said, looking up at Adam, who was still leaning against the doorway, watching him.

 

“Yeah, in the kitchen.”

 

Kris frowned at Adam’s ungraciousness. “You couldn’t bring up a second cup for him? Or even one for me, for that matter?”

 

Adam licked his lips. “No, sorry.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, walking towards the doorway. He watched as Adam placed his mug on top of the nearby dresser, warm hands grabbing him around the waist and turning him quickly so that his back was against the wall. Kris looked up at him in surprise, a soft gasp escaping his mouth. He was used to Adam being affectionate with him, he was prepared for the hugs, but this felt different, it felt purposeful and sexual. He was about to say that this wasn’t the time to be annoying when Adam pressed close against him and then bent his head. _What was he doing?_ Kris gasped again when he felt Adam’s mouth cover his, coffee-hot tongue slipping into his mouth.

 

Blood rushed in his ears and he stared myopically at Adam’s black bangs as Adam leisurely stroked his tongue along Kris’s bottom lip. He stood frozen against the wall as his hands started trembling, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He shuddered when he felt Adam’s palms caress his sides, slipping under his shirt to stroke his lower back, moving upwards and then trailing his blunt, manicured nails back down, hands curving around his waist. This was unexpected. This was unusual. This was… _unfair_.

 

Kris swallowed and braced his hands on Adam’s shoulders, pushing him back and away. He watched as Adam gave him a slow, seductive smile, his hands reaching up to grab Kris by the wrists and then pressed them against the wall beside his head, taking a step forward so that he was pressed even closer than before, his leg moving between Kris’s thighs and _pressing in_ …

  
“Adam? What…what’re you doing?” Kris whispered, biting his bottom lip, not daring to look at him.

 

Adam licked his lips and leaned down for another kiss, tongue soothing the bite mark, murmuring against Kris’s lips, “let me in, baby.”

 

He felt Adam hard against him and Kris groaned, his body going limp and melting against Adam’s warmth. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth for his kiss, letting Adam have him and taking what he wanted, too. Adam might have fantasies about him and Brad, but Kris had fantasies about Adam – and not all of them were sexual. He had suppressed them over the years because Adam was with Brad; and he wasn’t the kind of person to mess up someone’s relationship. So he had quietly pushed his feelings back and accepted that Adam was his second best friend. It worked for them; the three of them balanced each other. Wasn’t it true that the triangle was the strongest shape because it could endure the strongest external forces without collapsing? Kris thought of their friendship like that. He never once considered that Adam might be interested in Kris.

 

So what was this about? Why _now_ , after all these years?

 

He sucked on Adam’s tongue, drawing him inside, feeling Adam’s warm breath brush against his cheek as he tilted his head, just so, just perfectly, where everything aligned and fit. Adam chuckled throatily, kissing him slowly, taking his time because he must’ve known that Kris wasn’t going to say no, that Kris wasn’t going to stop him, that Kris wanted this and had wanted this from the first moment that he met Adam.

 

“I fucking _knew_ it,” he whispered, licking Kris’s mouth.

 

Kris inhaled sharply and moved his face when Adam tried to kiss him again. He wriggled against the wall, pushing Adam back with his chest, and jerked his wrists from Adam’s light hold. He wiped his mouth with his hand and stared up at Adam, seeing surprise in his eyes but his lips curving into a smug and knowing grin.

 

They didn’t say anything and Kris turned, walking down the hallway to the stairs. He hurried to the kitchen, determined to get enough coffee into Brad so that he could get the hell out of there. He didn’t know what game Adam was playing or _why_ he did that, but he wasn’t going to take that bullcrap.

 

Brad and Adam always had this weird competition thing when it came to Kris. Who teased him the most; who flirted with him the best; who dressed him up the most stylish, which had nothing to do with Kris’s preferences, but to show him off to the other. It was bizarre being the center of their competitive attention; as far as Kris knew, they didn’t do that to any of their other friends. And since it was always part of their friendship, Kris never really bothered to analyze it further. When their careers started to really take off, they both asked Kris to be their personal assistant. They wanted one person that they could trust, someone who knew them and would stand up for them or stand up to them as needed. They knew Kris had backbone, despite his easygoing nature, and they trusted him with their lives.

 

It was still a point of contention between Brad and Adam, nearly a decade later, that Kris ended up choosing to be Brad’s personal assistant.

 

_“You like him more than me,” Adam accused him, drunkenly._

_“It’s because he needs me more than you.”_

_Adam glared at him. “That’s not true.” He leaned closer to Kris and met his eyes. “That’s not really why, is it, Kristopher?”_

 

No, it really wasn’t why, but Kris couldn’t ever tell either one of them the truth. And the truth was, Kris would’ve loved being Adam’s personal assistant; any excuse to be able to spend time with him really. He loved Adam’s music and his talent, his sharp eye, his confidence in what kind of performer he wanted to be. Kris could get behind him and help him get to the stratosphere if that’s what Adam needed from him. But, Kris couldn’t and wouldn’t stand in the wings and watch Adam live out his rock star dream, complete with gorgeous and available twinks throwing themselves at Adam at every turn. He could follow Brad around the world and clean up after his random hook ups, get him dressed and out of someone’s hotel room/apartment/house/back room/bathroom/back seat. But, he couldn’t do the same for Adam.

 

Brad was sitting up against the headboard, looking a little green, his hands pressed against his eyes. Adam stared at Kris as he brought Brad his coffee, sitting on the other side of the bed, playing with the leather cuffs still attached to the headboard.

 

“Oh God, Kristopher, kill me now. Please.”

 

“Come on, let’s go,” Kris said, abruptly. “You’re screwing up my Sunday.”

 

Brad wrapped both of his hands around the mug and sipped his coffee and blinked prettily up at him. “It’s Sunday? Isn’t this your day off? Why are you here?”

 

Kris flicked his eyes at Adam and then stared at Brad. “Why do you think?”

 

“Are you mad at me?” Brad said, putting the mug down and giving Kris a long, serious, considering look. “You are; you’re mad at me for real this time.”

 

“Just, come on, let’s go. Adam’s got stuff he has to do and I want to get out of here.”

 

Brad turned and looked at Adam, who stared back with an impassive expression on his face. Brad turned and looked at Kris. “Something happened. What the hell happened?”

 

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

 

***

 

“Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

 

“Nothing happened back there.”

 

Brad was shrewd; he knew when someone was lying to him. “What did Adam do this time?”

 

“Just forget about it,” he muttered, not wanting to get into it with Brad, of all people.

 

Kris drove down Mulholland, taking the back way into the city, when Brad asked, subdued, if they could just go for a drive along the Pacific Coast Highway. Kris didn’t say anything, but drove into the city and took the Santa Monica Freeway to the PCH. They rolled down the windows, letting the warm Sunday morning air from the Pacific Ocean fill up the inside of his car, top 40 tunes on the radio.

 

 _“…next up is one of our local favorites, Adam Lambert, ‘Naked Love,’”_ Ryan’s voice filtered through the car stereo speakers.

 

Kris turned the knob, nearly breaking it off the stereo panel, to cut it off before the music could start. Brad turned and looked at him, complete astonishment and true surprise on his face.

 

“Okay, I’m through being patient, what’s going on?”

 

He gritted his teeth, concentrating on not driving the car off the cliff.

 

“Did you guys have a fight? And what on earth could you and Adam fight about?”

 

Kris said nothing.

 

“Is it because we hooked up last night?”

 

“I don’t care who you sleep with, Brad. It’s none of my business what you and Adam do.”

 

He could feel Brad staring at him and Kris didn’t dare look back. In the years that they were friends, Brad knew him better than most, and he could read Kris better than anyone. “I didn’t ask him to call you.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t throw it in your face like that.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Fine, have it your way,” Brad murmured, looking out the window. “I’m just saying that—“

 

“Anyway.” He interrupted sharply, gripping the steering wheel. He took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, you have a lunch meeting with Joss and Jane to talk about developing ‘Husbands’ for cable. It’s at 11 in the morning and at The Ivy. Tuesday, you have two interviews, one with ‘Web Series Network’ at 9 o’clock and one with your favorite writer from ‘The Advocate Online.’ She’ll come over to the house at 3 o’clock and I’ll make sure that your chef prepares something to eat for the two of you.”

 

“All right,” Brad drawled, biting his lip.

 

“Wednesday night, you’re invited to do the red carpet and then an after party hosted by ‘After Elton’ so I sent your gray suit to the cleaners. I’ll pick it up tomorrow after I drop you off at The Ivy.” Kris felt a little bit calmer, switching his brain to Brad’s schedule rather than thinking about what happened at Adam’s house.

 

“Kris—“

 

“Thursday, you don’t have anything scheduled, but that could change. If you want me to leave it open for you, I can push any upcoming meetings to Friday or next Monday instead, unless it’s a really cool event and you’ll want to attend it.”

 

“Okay, but, Kris—“

 

“I went through the inbox and read all the scripts that you received. I pulled three of them that I think you’d be interested in, so you might want to read them this week and I can call whoever’s attached to the projects and get you a meeting with the producers.”

 

Brad sighed dramatically. “Pull over.”

 

“Are you going to be sick?” Kris said, checking his mirrors and moving the car off the highway to a nearby pull off area. “Don’t puke in my car, dude.”

 

“What the fuck is your problem?”

 

Kris turned to look at him, lowering his sunglasses to the tip of his nose so that he could see Brad over the rim. “Pay attention, Bradley, I’m trying to tell you your schedule.”

 

“Don’t treat me like a freaking child. I get the email notifications of my schedule, too, and I actually do read them,” Brad snarled at him. “And what the hell crawled up your ass and died? I don’t appreciate the attitude.”

 

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Shut your mouth.”  

 

“What did you just say to me?”

 

Kris put the car into park and shut off the engine. He jerked off his seatbelt and got out of the car, not bothering to look at Brad.

 

“What the fuck, Kristopher! What the fuck is the matter with you!” Brad screamed at him through the opened windows.

 

He ignored Brad and took a walk, trying to cool down. Why was he so angry? What the hell was wrong with Brad, talking down to him like he wasn’t the only one who knew how to keep Brad’s life in some kind of normal balance. And what the hell were the two of them up to, Brad and Adam and their stupid idiotic games, mostly at Kris’s expense, Adam kissing him like that, like it meant something, and then saying _‘I fucking knew it’_ like they had planned this out to—to what? Test him?

 

Kris faced the ocean, the beautiful blue ocean, much like the color of Adam’s eyes – and then he mentally kicked himself in the balls for being such an idiot. He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hands against his forehead. Maybe it was time to go; he’d given Brad ten years of his life. He’d put his life, his dreams – _had it really been more than a year since he went on a date? He didn’t even want to think about when was the last time he had sex_ – and his music on hold so that he could help Brad pursue his. And now that Brad had, that he was where he always wanted to be, Kris could step back and work on his own life for a change instead of trying to run Brad’s.

 

It was a tantalizing thought. He had more than enough money because Brad made sure that Kris got his share. He was pretty frugal and had saved up enough to not have to work for a couple of years. Maybe this was the right time to get out of Hollywood, go home to visit his family and his friends, put together a plan for getting his foot in the door. He had been there and helped Brad and even Adam maneuver through the entertainment industry. Kris had a network of friends and allies. He knew people who would give him five minutes of their time because he always made sure that Brad (and sometimes even Adam) gave them five minutes of theirs.

 

There was nothing stopping Kris.

 

He dropped his hands and opened his eyes, looking out at the tireless, unstoppable ocean. Brad and Adam were like that, always fluid, always strong, never letting the rocks stop them from getting what they wanted. Kris had learned a lot from watching them.

 

“Hey.”

 

Kris turned to see Brad walking towards him, narrow shoulders slumped, hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. “Hey.”

 

“Sorry about,” Brad shook his head, letting out a deep breath. “Sorry for talking to you like that.”

 

“I’m sorry, too. That was out of line, even for us,” Kris said, giving him a small smile. It wasn’t like he could ever really stay mad at Brad for long.

 

“Are we okay? You’ve never really been pissed off at me like that before.”

 

Kris reached out and hugged Brad, pulling him in close. He smelled sour and desperately in need of a post-sex shower, but Kris held him close. “We’re okay. I just figured out what I’m going to do when I grow up.”

 

“Really? Your music? You’re going to do it? Finally?” Brad untucked his face from Kris’s neck and smiled up at him. “Seriously, Kristopher, you’re not just fucking with me? You’re going to work on your music now.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s about time!” Brad shouted, wrapping his arms around Kris’s back and lifting him up, jumping up and down. Kris laughed, trying to hold on tight, because who knew that Brad was so strong.

 

He put Kris back on his feet and Kris held his shoulders, looking at him.

 

“You’re not upset?”

 

“God, Kris, no, never! Well, a little because this is kind of sudden and it’s going to be such a bitch to break in a new personal assistant, but no. No! We’ve been waiting for you _for ages_ to finally figure it out and go after what you want,” Brad said, his brown eyes wide and alert. “You spent ten years taking care of us, we want a chance to take care of you now.”

 

“Really?”

 

Brad sighed and rolled his eyes. “Kristopher, did you just think that it was always going to be about me?”

 

Kris snickered. “Well, yeah.”

 

“You’re my best friend; you’ve seen me at my best and at my worst and didn’t tell me to fuck off and run screaming away,” Brad said, softly. Kris smiled, looking at his eyes. “So I know how stubborn you are; and I know you wouldn’t have listened if anyone told you to quit taking care of me to go after what you wanted. We know _you_ , baby, so we were waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass.”

 

He laughed, hugging Brad again and patting him on the back. He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink low into his belly with nerves.

 

“Damn. I guess I’m really going to do this, huh?”

 

“You better, baby, or we’re going to have words,” Brad said, smiling at him. He kissed Kris’s neck and sighed against his skin. “I’m happy for you. I know you’re going to be a rock star.”

 

***

 

Kris worked out of the guest house behind Brad’s house from 10 in the morning to 10 at night. If it was a special event night, Kris accompanied Brad and Adam, helping them work the red carpet. Kris traveled with Brad everywhere he went and was his closest confidant and business partner. For a couple of years, Kris actually lived in the guest house, thinking that being close by and accessible was a good idea. It was anything _but_ a good idea. Brad had crazy-ass demands (“I want to have a jello pool party so can you get the pool drained, then cover everything with saran wrap, and make like sixty thousand gallons of cherry jello, Kris? I need that by tomorrow night.”), a quixotic temper (“Fuck you, Kristopher! Fuck you! Fuck you! You’re fucking fired, Kris, fired! Leave your keys and pack your shit and go back to that dump you were living in when we found you, you ungrateful asshole! Get the fuck out of my house! No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t go, I didn’t mean it, I swear, I’ll make it up to you! Kris! No one loves me but you!”), and crossed so many personal boundaries and lines, walking into the guest house at all hours of the day and night, waking Kris up (especially when he had _company_ over – sometimes when Kris was with said company _in bed_ ; “You’ve got some good moves, but he/she isn’t good enough for you, baby, shall I call them a cab?” was Brad’s usual excuse) and demanding any number of unreasonable things; it was a miracle that they survived with their friendship (and Kris’s sanity) intact.

 

He was certain that if it were _anyone else_ , Kris would’ve been gone in a hot minute. Pretty certain. He wasn’t a glutton for punishment. He wasn’t a masochist or anything like that. He was pretty sure.

 

Kris was pleased to have some peace and quiet. Brad was at lunch with Cassidy, leaving Kris to putter around the house alone. He was syncing his calendar to Brad’s and Cassidy’s to make sure that everything for the next five months were shared. He curled his leg under him on the couch, guitar on his lap, as he worked through one of his favorite songs.

 

 _“…I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose,_ _fire away, fire away,_ _ricochet, you take your aim,_ _fire away, fire away,_ _you shoot me down, but I won't fall,_ _I am titanium,_ _you shoot me down, but I won't fall,_ _I am titanium…Every breath you take, every move you make, every single day, every vow you break, I’ll be watching you…”_  
 

“Cool mash up,” Adam said, stepping through the open glass doors into the living room. “You always surprise me with the way you can put songs together like that.”

 

Kris set his guitar down on the coffee table and got off the couch. “Thanks.” He walked into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

 

“I’ll have some iced tea,” he said, following Kris into the kitchen. “So I heard that you put in your two weeks and that you were going back home for a little while.”

 

He bit his lip, getting the pitcher from inside the fridge and pouring out two glasses of iced tea. He placed it back inside and got a lemon, slicing two pieces and putting them in the glass. “Yeah, I just thought it was time to figure out my next move.”

 

“And you weren’t even going to tell me.”

 

Kris picked up the glass and handed it to Adam, flicking his eyes away. “I’ve been busy; Brad has me calling every single agency in the city and I’ve been reading resumes and trying to set up interviews with Brad and rearranging some of Brad’s meetings and handing over some of the more urgent things to Cassidy so he can help Brad out during the transition period and—“

 

“You weren’t going to even tell me!” Adam shouted at him. “I had to find out from one of _my_ personal assistants that you put in your notice.”

 

Kris frowned, looking up at him. He didn’t want to fight with Adam. They both knew why Kris was avoiding him and a part of Kris knew that Adam wouldn’t let him go like this. But he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about that Sunday morning, almost two weeks ago, when Adam kissed him. “Like I said, I’ve been busy. I haven’t had a chance to tell everyone and I would’ve said something.”

 

“Before you left?” Adam snorted, setting the glass on the counter. “I’m your best friend, Kristopher, and you’d leave LA and leave all of us behind without saying one goddamn word to me. Me!”

 

“Not everything is about _you_ , Adam.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

Kris leaned against the counter, staring at the floor. “Let’s not fight. I’m only in town for a couple more days. There’s still so much to do before I go and we both know that Brad is going to have a panic attack if I don’t get all this organized for him.”

 

“Stop hiding behind Brad and work,” Adam said, stepping closer to him.

 

He raised his chin and met Adam’s steely blue gaze. “I’m not hiding.”

 

“Yes, you are. You’re hiding. You’re hiding from _me_. You’ve always kept your distance from me and I used to wonder why. Why you were so much closer to Brad, even though you called me your best friend. We couldn’t ever figure it out. Why you allowed Brad and _everyone_ else to get close to you, but when it came to me, it was in name only. Wasn’t it, Kris? You kept me at a distance and I was afraid that it was something I’d done. But I know why now, don’t I? Don’t I, Kris?”

 

Kris found himself against the edge of the counter with Adam’s hands on either side of his hips. “What do you want from me?”

 

“I want to know why. I want the truth.”

 

 _You can’t handle the truth_ , Kris said in his head, and then chastised himself for reciting stupid movie lines. He met Adam’s eyes, so dazzling and blue but unable to hide his feelings, his hurt and his desire, his make up on perfectly, his armor in place because he thought he needed it with Kris, and Kris reached up to cup his hands on Adam’s cheeks and pressed his lips against Adam’s perfectly glossed mouth, and kissed him. It was the truth as Kris believed it, but truth was never so simple. It wasn’t going to end with Kris and Adam holding hands and walking into the sunset. Kris was never fooled by the happy ending, fade to black, second encores, and the last curtain call. He knew that the story continued, just as hard if not harder, to stay together after the last of the music swelled.

 

Adam moaned, pulling Kris against him, one arm curled behind his back, his other hand tucked into Kris’s hair. Kris kissed him with all the longing of the past ten years and he wasn’t surprised when Adam kissed him back just as hard. If this was what he could have, then Kris would take it. He wasn’t stupid.

 

He’d kiss Adam and hold him close now and enjoy every second of it, but in two days, Kris would be on a plane to Arkansas.

 


	2. Ricochet

**PART TWO: Ricochet**

 

Being back at his parent’s home in Maumelle, a suburb outside of Little Rock, was reverse culture shock. He’d forgotten how the city had a slower pace than LA; that people were friendly for no other reason than to be friendly. Kris didn’t need to have his defenses up or his bullshit detector on all the time. Back home, no one knew him, no one knew that he had “access” to Brad Bell and Adam Lambert. He could slip on a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt and disappear into the crowd and no one noticed. It was painfully beautiful to be anonymous again.

 

There was no doubt that Brad was the star, and compared to everyone else in Brad’s professional circle, Kris was the person closest to him because they were best friends. That put a big target on Kris’s back with just about everyone –Brad’s fans, his agent at William Morris, and every gay-friendly self-proclaimed “hip and indie” director/producer/writer in town who wanted to hitch their wagon to Brad’s rising star. And by secondary association, because of his friendship with Adam, Kris spent a lot of time saying “no,” letting his Arkansas drawl out to play while he fended off people who were out to use Brad (“and no, Brad, it’s not in the good way, trust me”).

 

Kris spent the first two weeks back letting his mama spoil him rotten. He offered to stay in a nearby furnished hotel/apartment, but his parents wouldn’t hear of it. They unpacked his things that were in the attic and set up his old bedroom.

 

_Kris’s dad placed his arm around Kris’s shoulders. “Son, your mama wanted to knock your old bedroom wall down so we could extend the master bath and put in a walk-in closet, but I wouldn’t let her do that your room. I sacrificed Dan’s room instead.”_

Dan had finally moved out and gotten a place in the downtown neighborhood and taken all of his stuff with him. Kris was planning to drive over in his old pick-up truck over the weekend and hang out at his brother’s place for a few days. When the rest of his family and his old friends from school found out that he was back home, Kris spent the first few days going to homemade dinners and hanging out at all of his favorite local places, walking around and remembering how much fun he had when he was in high school. Someone once said that you couldn’t go back home again, but obviously they weren’t talking about Arkansas. Home was the only place Kris could go where he felt _normal_.

 

It was strange to have someone else doing things for him and his mama noticed right away how much Kris had changed.

 

_“You’ve lost so much weight,” his mama complained, looking at him._

_“I’m the same, you just haven’t seen me in a while.”_

 

_“My baby is all grown up now.”_

_Kris laughed, letting her pamper him. “I’m 28-years old; I think I’ve learned to fend for myself.”_

_“I read things online and I see you sneaking around on the red carpet on those entertainment shows; but I know that you spend all your time running after Bradley.”_

_“It was my job. Besides, I know you love him, you follow him on Twitter and you guys talk about me.”_

_“Humph. As adorable as that boy is, he is certainly what one calls high maintenance,” his mama said, which was her nice way of saying that Brad was a big ole diva._

 

Of course, once the novelty of Kris being home wore off, everyone asked him the same question: _What are you going to do now?_

 

What _was_ he going to do now? It was a good question.

 

Kris sat on the floor in his bedroom, leaning against the bed, looking through the three boxes of notebooks and folders, papers scattered everywhere, looking at the songs that he wrote when he was younger. He played the chords on his guitar, trying to puzzle out what his younger self was working on. Most of it was horribly immature, teenage dreams that belonged to another boy, but every once in a while, Kris came across a line or a series of notes that had potential. He sucked on the highlighter cap, marking parts that were passable, strumming the notes and putting things together.

 

He was a little rusty, not having many opportunities to just sit down with his guitar when he was too busy chasing down Brad. But it was coming back to him; there was nothing like sitting in his room and letting the music fill him.

 

His mama knocked on the door, popping her head into his room, smiling widely. “How’s the songwriting coming along?”

 

“I can’t believe the stuff that I used to write about,” he said, laughing. He played her a couple of lines and sang the words until he started cracking up because his mom snorted and rolled her eyes. “I think it’s about recycling? Or maybe it was about Katy’s shoes?”

 

“Goodness, Kristopher, I think remember you playing that the summer before your sophomore year, I think it was, and how I had to run to my bedroom so you wouldn’t hear me laugh,” she said, brightly.

 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that these songs were awful?”

 

“I didn’t want to stifle your creativity – and I really wanted you to appreciate recycling,” she said, winking at him. “Are you going to stay in for dinner tonight?”

 

“Actually, I think I’m going to go drive up to Conway to see Cale for a few days. I heard that he’s in a band and that they play in a coffee place downtown UCA.”

 

His mama nodded, approvingly. “He’s such a nice young man. His mama said that Cale was employee of the month three months in a row. Are you thinking of stealing him away to take with you back to LA?”

 

Kris smiled at her; she knew his mind so well it was a little scary. “If he’ll let me.”

 

***

 

Cale looked either pissed off or like he was going to start crying – sometimes, it could go either way with him. People wouldn’t be able to see it because Cale was the kind of guy who kept what he was thinking or feeling real close to the chest, stoic and enduring, but Kris knew him well enough, even after all these years, to be able to read the blank look on his face. Kris knew what Cale was like when he was having a good time. He smiled, he moved, the music he made danced across the stage. But he didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the audience and he didn’t look at any of his band mates – lead singer and keyboardist. Cale kept his jaw clenched and lips pressed tight. He kept his eyes on his guitar or off in the distance, but not really looking at anything. The coffeehouse wasn’t that big. There were about twenty small round tables and many people were standing along the wall, a good showing for a local band. The lead singer was a knock off James Blunt, complete with _emo_ expressions and smoldering glances at the prettier girls. They weren’t terrible, but there was definitely something going on between the band members. While the music was technically good, Kris could tell that there was something missing – passion, love of the music, harmony. _There was no soul._ There was no connection between the musicians. It was like everyone was there, but not performing with each other.

 

Kris had spent many years going out to see shows in small venues with Brad and Adam, or alone when he wanted to see a not-well-known singer-songwriter. He had seen Adam perform on stage for musicals, at small clubs for his shows, and then later, in packed stadium concerts. Adam always loved talking about performance – especially _his_ performance (“Well?” Adam demanded, full on diva mode, and Kris looked at his friend and said, “you need to clean up the vocals on the bridge; and screaming out the highest note you can hit is kinda pretentious, you’re not singing a rock opera, you know” and “shake your butt more, you know your fans like that” and “do you _really_ have to make out with your band on stage all the time?” to which Adam playfully slapped Kris’s ass and pouted, “ _fine_ ; but I’m still kissing Tommy!”) – and he knew Kris was completely enamored with learning about the process of creating music and performing. Adam brought Kris backstage whenever Brad let him out of his sight and gave Kris the VIP behind-the-scenes tour of what it was like to put an album together, from working with writers, to the production booth, to recording, to fights with management, to releasing an album – Adam was his guide through the treacherous and emotional process, generous and open with his feelings, his ideas, his pet peeves, and his successes and his failures. Kris would never be able to repay him for those valuable lessons because it gave Kris a head start, a toe hold into the business.

 

_Adam…the way that he kissed, with his full and impossibly soft lips and wicked tongue, Adam knew exactly the way that Kris liked being kissed._

_Kris frowned at himself at the memory; he needed to get his head in the game._

 

He dragged them out to karaoke bars around the city and wished that he could just bring his guitar and perform the songs in his own way instead. So Kris knew how it felt to be connected to the performers, the music, and with the people around him. When it was done right, there was a dynamic, a give-and-take, when the audience sent their energies to the musicians and they returned it tenfold. There was always this richness, depth of emotion, everyone on the same page. It couldn’t be faked; it couldn’t be artificial, and people _always_ saw through the bullshit. Audiences weren’t forgiving, unless there was some kind of emotional connection to the musicians on the stage. (“So what makes a great show?” Kris asked Adam. He smiled. “When I can feel them having the best time of their lives.”)

 

It made him frown now, and he pursed his lips as he watched Cale. There was _no way_ that his best friend from high school should be that cut-off from everyone in the room. When they were teenagers, they traveled together, playing music and singing in countries torn apart by poverty or war. Kris was kind of a spaz, but Cale kept it together and brought this calm vibe to their performances. He never missed a note and he never minded that Kris sometimes got so caught up in the music that he’d just mess up, and he’d just grin over at Kris, share a look that was encouraging, and it was just what Kris needed to get back on track.

 

He wasn’t seeing any of that in Cale’s performance and Kris wondered, sadly, if he had lost his love for playing music.

 

The singer finished his song and he graciously thanked the audience and took the applause and wolf whistles, but didn’t share them with his band. (Adam once said, “I could get on stage and shake my ass and get _all_ the cheers and love, but that’s not what I want; I _want_ to share the stage with everyone because it’s not just about me, it’s about the music and my voice is only one part of it”). Kris watched as Cale stalked off, pulling his guitar strap off and placing his guitar in his hard case.

 

Kris got up and made his way around the crowd that was forming around the singer. He tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled, waiting for Cale to turn around. “Hey, man, long time.”

 

Cale stared at him for a moment, registering nothing, and then he _recognized_ Kris. His eyes crinkled at the edges and his face was transformed by the blinding smile of sheer happiness. He set his case on the ground and reached out, pulling Kris in for a tight hug. “You son of a bitch!”

 

“Hey, I take exception to you calling my mama a bitch,” he said, thumping Cale on the back and hugging him just as hard. “How the hell have you been?”

 

“Man! I never thought I’d see you again, Kristopher,” Cale said, looking down at him. “What’re you doing back home?”

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Buy me a beer and I’ll tell you my story.”

 

***

 

They decided not to go to a bar so Kris followed Cale back to his apartment to crash on his couch for a few days. He spent a few minutes looking around, checking out the pictures on the walls and shelves, seeing Cale’s life in snapshots – he had a wide circle of friends, pretty girls with their arms around him, Cale and his family, candid shots of Cale on stage – as Cale grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge.

 

“So are you still in touch with all our high school friends?”

 

“Most of them,” Cale said, smiling. “They stuck around. You’re one of the very few who actually left. Here, I ran out of beers, man.”

 

“Thanks. Water’s fine,” he said, taking one of the bottles. “So the insurance business is working out?”

 

“It pays the bills,” Cale said, smirking. “I know you’re not here to talk about my illustrious career in finance and insurance. So, Kristopher Allen, Mr. Hollywood, it’s been ten years, man, what brings you back and why did you look me up?”

 

Kris winced at the words, but he knew it was out of his own sense of guilt than Cale admonishing him. He turned to face his best friend and shyly tucked one hand into his pocket. “I quit my job working for Brad and I’m looking to start a band.”

 

Cale stared at him and blinked. “Start a band.”

 

“And I want you to come out to LA with me,” Kris said, hurriedly. “I mean, I know it’s kind of sudden and you have a life here and everything – you have your own music going and your band and—“

 

“I’ll go. When do you want me?”

 

He stopped talking, his lungs needing air, and just stared at Cale. “What?”

 

Cale shrugged, sitting back on his couch and propping one foot on the coffee table. “You know I’d go on that journey with you.”

 

“I didn’t think it was going to be _that_ easy,” he said, laughing. He rubbed his face and then looked at Cale. “You’re serious?”

 

“I just have to put in my two week notice and take care of my stuff somehow, probably store it at my parent’s house, but yeah, I’m serious if you are.”

 

Kris nodded slowly, sitting down on the couch across from him. “I’m deadly serious.”

 

Cale barked out a laugh and shook his head. “We’ve done some crazy things, but I think this must be the craziest idea you’ve ever had.”

 

“Cool,” he said, opening the top of his water bottle and taking a long drink. He wasn’t expecting for Cale to say yes right away and Kris was ready to put a fight, to be persuasive and maybe even resort to begging, but a part of him always knew that Cale would say yes. Even when they were kids, growing up, Kris could always convince Cale to get into all kinds of trouble with him. And whenever they got caught, Cale would just stand there and take the punishment with Kris, never saying a word. As a man, Kris knew that Cale hadn’t changed fundamentally. He’d always be the most loyal friend Kris had ever had and he regretted the years that he lost when he left for LA. “So what the hell is up with your band?”

 

He watched as Cale’s face flushed and he shook his head. “We have some creative differences.”

 

“Meaning…”

 

Cale sighed. “Meaning that I don’t think we should play the crap that we do but Seth – he’s the singer, so he thinks he’s the only one to make decisions for the band – thinks he’s going to make it big singing covers _exactly_ the same way as the original singer.”

 

“You’ve been writing music?”

 

“Sometimes, yeah,” Cale said, modestly.

 

“Yeah? Play something for me, dude. Whatcha been working on? I know you’ve probably got like a hundred songs done,” Kris said, kicking back on the sofa.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Well, yeah, come on.”

 

He watched in anticipation when Cale got up and opened his guitar case, pulling it out and tossing the strap over his head. He sat on the arm of the couch and settled his guitar, tuning the strings quickly. “All right, this is just something that’s been going through my mind.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“It’s called ‘[Until the End of Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcQdF1teYRI).’”

 

Now this was the Cale that Kris remembered; someone who was into the music, feeling it, confident in his gift, singing the words and being genuine. Like this, Cale was imminently watchable; and his music style fit with the kind of music Kris wanted to make. He knew he was right to ask Cale; knew with everything in him that the two of them could have long years putting songs together and playing on stage. It was just like when they were in high school and they clicked as friends and as musical collaborators, except he and Cale were older now, more seasoned by life, and that they’d have something to say with their music.

 

“… _because you have my love, you have my love,_ _you can have my love, until the end of time_ …”

 

He smiled shyly at Kris and then broke out in a wide grin, laughing softly when Kris whistled and clapped his hands.

 

“Yeah! See, I knew that you were in there somewhere,” he said, watching as Cale drank from his water bottle, looking over at him. “Seriously, man, there’s no one else I’d want to go out there with me. It’s too important and I’m not looking to fail. It’s going to be a lot of work – ohmygod, it’s going to be a lot of work – but I think if you and me go out there, we can’t go wrong.”

 

He watched as Cale gave him a slow smile, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dude, but you had me at ‘hey, man.’”

 

***

 

It took about two months for Cale to finally wrap up his life in Conway and move out to Los Angeles. Kris offered up his guest room in his condo (“it’s just temporary; you think it’s convenient _now_ but you’ll change your mind when I wake you up at like 3 in the morning and want you to listen to a song,” Kris said, trying to pass along wisdom learned from living with Brad. “Not to mention when you want to have someone stay overnight” to which Cale smirked and said, “what about you? Have you turned into a monk or something?”) until Cale found a place of his own.

 

After Cale got the touristy stuff out of his system, he and Kris buckled down, talking about music, sharing their original music, playing for each other reinterpretations of covers (“holy crap, that’s the best version of ‘Heartless’ I’ve ever heard,” Cale said, wide eyed), and going to a few local small clubs to watch (and later critique) performances. For Kris, these were the best weeks of his life and he loved having Cale in LA with him. He wondered what their lives would’ve been like if he had asked Cale to come out with him after graduating from high school.

 

What the last ten years would’ve been like with Cale and just the two of them trying to figure things out on their own; would they had made it or would they had returned to Arkansas? Maybe he never would’ve met Brad and Adam…

 

 _Adam_ …damn it, he was going to have to figure out what was going on with Adam because…because before he left LA, they had kissed twice and Kris never said anything to him about it before he left. Maybe he could’ve handled that better; he could only imagine that Adam was probably angry and disappointed in him. He’d been tempted, so many times, to text or call Adam. Brad texted him and emailed him practically every day since Kris came back home, complaining about Joshua, the new PA that Brad hired (“God, Kris, he’s _so pretty_ but he doesn’t have half the sense you do” to which Kris replied, “I told you not to hire the pretty one, dumbass”), and gave him updates about his projects, their friends, but nothing about Adam. Not even a courtesy mention; not even a _“by the way, I know you’ve been drooling after my ex-boyfriend but, Adam thinks you’re a cowardly douchebag and he never wants to see you again and we hope you drop dead.”_ And Kris didn’t know how to ask. Because in the end, Adam was stillBrad’s ex-boyfriend/nostalgic hook up. It was probably something in the [Bro Code](http://www.brocode.com/code) that Kris couldn’t date Brad’s exes, let alone fall in love with one.

  
Kris took Cale out to his favorite bar, just a block from his condo, needing to stretch his legs and give his fingers a break. (“Damn, I’m out of practice,” Kris said, flexing and stretching his sore fingers. “I need to do strengthening exercises if I want to get to performance level.”)

 

“How come you never came out to LA when I did?”

 

“You seemed like you wanted to make it alone,” Cale said, sipping his beer and giving Kris a slow smile.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready; my folks wanted me to go to college and have a degree. I played with a few other bands when I was in school. Had a couple of serious girlfriends. And then I started working and it just never occurred to me to have more than what I did.”

 

“And now?” He said, watching Cale carefully. Kris didn’t have any plans to quit and he needed to know that Cale was going to be there for the long haul.

 

“You thinking I’m going to ditch you and go back home, aren’t you?”

 

Kris smirked. “It crossed my mind.”

 

 _Did everyone from back home really know how Kris’s mind worked?_ Because no one in LA sure did. Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing if Cale could read Kris that well.

 

“I’m not going to walk away. I want this as much for myself as I do for you, man.”

 

He tapped the neck of his beer bottle against Cale’s. “All right then, here’s a toast – and a promise – that we’ll stick it out together until they kick us out. And even then, we’ll figure out a way to do what we want to do.”

 

“Cheers,” Cale said, nodding to him.

 

***

 

The next few weeks were a flurry of creative activity; Kris had never been so productive in all of his life. Cale brought a fresh perspective to everything, asking questions and making Kris think it through, even if he didn’t need to or want to. Cale was always such a steady presence; he always had Kris’s back. They worked with a number of songwriters to look at their work and to help them polish the lyricism of the song. They worked with producers, putting together a few tracks to showcase their music, most of their songs were radio friendly and Kris pushed to keep it a bit edgy.

 

It wasn’t all perfect smooth sailing. Cale didn’t blindly agree with everything Kris said or wanted; Kris didn’t want that. Instead, Cale shared his experiences of playing in a band, the type of music that worked with different types of audiences, how to shape music and share the stage with others, all working towards a common goal. They wrote constantly, and in the early days, both worked hard to be conscientious and considerate with their opinions, talking things out without taking any feedback or criticism personally.

 

When they realized what they were doing, Kris laughed and patted Cale on the shoulder and said, “man, after working for Brad, I’m so thick skinned, I’m not going to start crying if you really hate something I do.”

 

Cale grinned at him, sly and amused. “Alright then…that line you just sang, I didn’t know we were writing songs for ‘One Direction.’”  

 

“You rat bastard!” Kris hooted as Cale laughed in his face. He body slammed Cale onto the couch cushion and pulled his hair. “Take that back!”

 

“You’re the one who wrote—“

 

“I’m going to kick your ass!”

 

Cale laughed, reaching up to tickle Kris, laughing even harder when Kris curled up and fell off the couch to the floor.   

 

Kris narrowed his eyes. “Dirty pool, Cale.”

 

“Well, then, don’t try to repurpose lyrics you wrote when you were _fourteen_ , asswipe,” Cale said, peering down at him and smirking.

 

Kris covered his face with his hands and couldn’t stop laughing. He heard Cale laughing above him and they couldn’t stop the giggles. If they were going to be stuck together as collaborators and business partners, Kris couldn’t think of anyone better. Just the simple fact that Cale could make fun of him and laugh with him was all Kris needed.

 

“I’m glad you’re here, Cale.”

 

Cale looked over the side of the couch and turned on his belly, propping his chin on top of his hand.

 

“Thanks for – well, everything,” he said, smiling up at him.

 

He saw Cale reach down with his hand and squeeze his shoulder, patting him gently on his chest. “You know I’d go anywhere with you, man.”


	3. Chapter 3

**PART THREE: Fire Away, Fire Away**

 

 

Kris was able to get a three month lockout contract at [Bedrock](http://bedrock.la/rehearse/lockouts/) in Echo Park and secured rehearsal and recording space for him and Cale to practice and put together their demo EP. For days on end, they locked themselves in their space, took turns crashing on the couch or the floor, and burned through their energy to write, play, and record.

 

“Dude, come on, wake up,” Cale said, groggily. He shook Kris’s shoulder and Kris made a noise, not wanting to wake up.

 

“Fuck off, Brad, it’s my day off.”

 

Cale chuckled. “You’re having flashbacks, dude.”

 

“Ohmygod, I totally did.” Kris rolled to his back on the couch and opened his eyes, yawning widely. “What time is it?”

 

“I don’t know, but the disgusting taste in my mouth says that it’s probably tomorrow,” he murmured, getting off the floor and picking up his jacket. “We’ve been locked in here for six days straight. I need to shave.”

 

“God, that couch is awful,” Kris croaked, sitting up slowly. He twisted his back and groaned in pain. “Did we get anything done? I don’t even remember.”

 

“Three tracks.”  

 

“Did any of them even sound good?”

 

He watched as Cale dropped to the carpet on his back and flipped his long legs over his head. “Yeah, they’re good.”

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

“Yoga stretches.”

 

Kris snickered and rubbed his face. “You know, you’re going to fit in just right in LA.”

 

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” he said, grinning up at Kris between his legs.

 

Kris’s iPhone started to buzz in his pocket so he fell back on the couch and dug it out, looking at the screen. He snorted and answered the call, putting the phone next to his ear. “Bradley. You know the rules.”

 

“Well, how am I supposed to know when you’re _in_ the studio? It’s not like you let me put a GPS locator on you,” Brad huffed into his ear.

 

“It’s fine, we’re actually done for the day…night…whatever. I don’t even know,” he said, giggling. “I’m so wiped out right now.”

 

“Why don’t you come over? I’m having a little get together and you know everyone wants to see your pretty face,” Brad cajoled, lowering his voice and nearly whispering. “Come on, take a couple of hours off. You deserve it.”

 

Kris watched as Cale flowed into another yoga pose. For such a tall guy, he was really flexible and Kris was impressed. “Hey, you want to meet Brad and some of my friends?”

 

“Sure, why not?”

 

“All right, I’m bringing Cale over with me.”

 

“Yes! That’s fantastic! We all want to meet your mysterious collaborator,” Brad said, enthusiastically. “Come over right away. Codes and everything are the same. See you! Kisses!”

 

Kris chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Kisses.”

 

Cale raised his head and raised his eyebrow. “Seriously?”

 

“I’ve been in LA too long,” Kris said, sighing dramatically. He sniffed his armpit and made a face. “Maybe we should shower first and change clothes.”

 

***

 

Cale whistled as Kris pulled into the packed driveway. Brad had all the external lights on, making his house look even more grand than usual. “Must be nice.”

 

There were at least a dozen high end cars parked on the side of the long driveway, more cars on the lawn, and even more cars along the main street. Kris frowned as he parked his car.

 

“I’m going to kill him,” Kris muttered, shutting off the engine. “This isn’t just a _little get together_ with a few friends. He’s having a freaking party.”

 

Cale grinned, getting out of the car. “Really? Like a Hollywood party with movie stars and such?”

 

Kris followed him up the walkway to the front of the house. “Probably. Jack ass. I’m going to kick his scrawny Texas butt.”

 

“Aww, come on, we’ve been working hard in the studio. Let’s have a couple of drinks and have some fun,” Cale said, looping his arm around Kris’s shoulders and opening the front door.

 

Just as he suspected, there were dozens of people inside. As soon as he walked in, people recognized him and greeted him right away, forcing him to stop to hug them and chit chat. He introduced Cale as they made their way through the house. Brad was nowhere to be seen, that little coward.

 

“Is that Scarlett Johansson? Dude,” Cale said, literally bouncing on his feet. “You know, I downloaded her album, _Break Up_ , and it wasn’t bad.”

 

Kris looked over to see the actress sipping her white wine. She looked polite but uncomfortable at the man talking to her, his hands moving wildly in the air. She looked like she needed a rescue and Cale was the perfect gentleman for that role. “Stay right here, I’ll introduce you. Whatever you do, don’t ever call her ‘ScarJo’ because she hates that.”

 

“Wait, you’re just going to go—“

 

“Hey, Scarlett.”

 

She smiled, her eyes widening. “Kristopher! I heard rumors that you were back, but I didn’t think I’d see you.” She hugged him warmly and pressed her lips against his ear. “Get me out of here, please.”

 

Kris chuckled, patting her back. He turned to look at the man she was walking to, who was very put out that Kris was there. “Sorry to interrupt, but would you mind if I talked to Scarlett? My friend Cale is a musician and he’s got some questions to ask about her last album.”

 

“Uh, well, okay, but—“

 

“Thanks, dude, I appreciate it,” Kris said, taking her hand and leading her across the room to where Cale was standing, trying not to look creepy.

 

“Thank you so much,” she whispered, giggling softly. “I was trying to figure out a nice way to excuse myself and…I just couldn’t!”

 

Kris squeezed her hand. “No, I get it. But I did want you to meet my friend from back home.” He let her go and smiled up at Cale. “This is Cale Mills, we’ve been working on our demo since we got back in LA. Cale, this is Scarlett Johansson.”

 

He watched as they shook hands and Scarlett took a step closer to Cale, looking up at him with a delighted expression on her pretty face. Cale was flushed, but he met her eyes and complimented her on the song “[Clean](http://youtu.be/u9oUr72IWtw)” and Kris watched as Scarlett smiled, her attention on Cale.

 

“I’m going to go…get drinks. Be back soon,” Kris said, smirking as Cale and Scarlett nodded, ignoring him altogether.

 

Kris made his way through the house, grabbed a beer from the fridge in the kitchen, and walked out to the swimming pool. Tiki torches and paper lights stretched across the large backyard and Willow Smith’s “[Fireball](http://youtu.be/g7AQ7No84Uc)” blaring from the hidden external speakers. Kris looked around and saw Brad standing on top of a lounge chair, dancing and singing, “ _I’m the fireball of the party, I’m the fire, I’m the fireball of the party_ ,” surrounded by his usual bevy of pretty boys and girls, and made his way slowly towards him.

 

“Hey, punk.”

 

“Kristopher!” Brad screeched, jumping off the lounger and throwing himself bodily at Kris, thin arms wrapping tightly around him. “You came! You’re here! Finally!”

 

“Dude, let me breathe,” he said, trying not to drop his beer bottle. He hugged Brad back and patted his back. “Good to see you, Brad.”

 

Brad took his free hand in both of his and smiled up at him, beatific and completely high. “Kristopher, I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t even begin to tell you how awful it’s been since you’ve been gone.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he said, chuckling.

 

“It’s so true! Ohmygod, you just don’t know! I don’t even know where to start my list of complaints!”

 

Kris pulled him into a one-arm hug and kissed his temple. “You’re going to be just fine, Bradley.”

 

Brad wrapped his arms around Kris’s waist and gently placed his head on Kris’s shoulder, letting out a pleased hum as he started swaying. Kris drank his beer and patted Brad on his back; he was used to this, Brad snuggling against him when needed reassurance. He had even kind of missed it. From past experience, he knew that Brad was just going to snuggle him standing up for as long as he needed it and Kris chuckled to himself, smiling as Brad’s friends watched them with amusement.

 

“This is so nice; Joshua is too tall for me to do this,” Brad murmured, tightening his hold.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to molest your new personal assistant though,” he said, softly.

 

Brad snorted and let out a low giggle. “Have you seen Adam yet?”

 

Kris froze, beer bottle at his lips. “Um, not yet. I didn’t – of course he’s here.”

 

He looked down to meet Brad’s brown eyes. “You should talk to him. He really missed you, Kris. And I’m not one to gossip about Adam’s love life but he hasn’t dated anyone since you left. Celibate as a monk. He wouldn’t even have nostalgic sex with me. I wish you’d put that boy out of his misery.”

 

“I…don’t—“

 

Brad pinched Kris’s butt hard and Kris yelped, jumping slightly. “Don’t even try it with me, Kristopher Allen.” He pulled away and gave Kris a very long, serious look. “Go find Adam and talk to him. Don’t make me call your mama and tell her that you’re being mean.”

 

Kris stared at him. Because Brad actually _had_ called Kris’s mama in the past to tell her that Kris was being mean to him. And Kris’s mama had called Kris to tell him to quit being a bully. He totally didn’t understand their odd friendship – his mama and Adam chatted on Twitter, too – but whatever, he was glad that they all got along.

 

“Don’t call my mama, you blackmailer! And fine, I’ll go find Adam and say hello.”

 

“You better say more than just hello, Kristopher,” Brad said, giving him a calculating look. It made Kris nervous. He never should forget that Brad was a lot smarter and more perceptive than people expected him to be. “You owe him an explanation, don’t you think?”

 

Kris sighed, running his hand through his hair, and glanced at Brad. _How much did he know? What did Adam tell him?_ They weren’t just exes but best friends and Kris knew that Adam and Brad shared everything. _Did Adam tell Brad that he’d kissed Kris? And why was Brad pushing him to Adam?_ He didn’t seem mad about it, just upset that Kris wasn’t being a good friend to Adam; and if Brad was going to call _him_ on that then Kris knew he was being really out of line.

 

He cleared his throat and finished his beer, looking around and not meet Brad’s gaze. “Alright, man, I’ll go talk to Adam.”  

 

***

 

Kris walked down the hallway towards the bathroom and found it already occupied with a few people standing against the wall, waiting their turn. He smiled and turned, going up the kitchen stairs to the second floor, and made use of the small bathroom tucked away at the back of the house. He washed his hands and dried them on the towel; he looked at his reflection – he looked exhausted, a bit pale and his pants were starting to slip off his hips, but otherwise he looked alright – and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed a haircut soon. When he opened the door, he let out a surprised yelp to see Adam standing in front of him, a predatory look on his handsome face.

 

“Adam—“

 

Adam pushed him back into the tiny bathroom with one hand on his chest, gripping the front of Kris’s tee-shirt, and closed the door behind him, locking it. Kris leaned against the sink, staring up at him.

 

“Hey, um… _ohhhh_ …”

 

Adam cupped his face and leaned down to kiss him, hard and rough, and Kris opened right up for it, like he had those other two times, moaning and grabbing Adam’s shirt with his hands. Adam pushed him against the sink counter, thrusting his thigh between Kris’s legs and twisting _just so_ , just right, and Kris groaned as he sucked on Adam’s tongue, pressing his hips right back.

 

“Welcome home, baby,” Adam murmured against his lips, raising his head to look at Kris.

 

“Hey…” His mind went blank. What could he say to Adam that didn’t sound trite or stupid? “Missed you.”

 

“Did you? That’s funny. You were gone for two months and home for two months and you never once called me or texted me – and I know you were talking to Brad the whole time,” Adam said, narrowing his eyes and staring at him. “I saw that you brought a _friend_ to the party. He’s cute. We’ve met.”

 

“That’s Cale. He’s my guitarist.”

 

Adam smirked. “Is that what you’re calling him?”

 

“Yeah…because he’s my guitarist?”

 

“I should be so angry at you,” Adam said, stroking his thumbs gently on Kris’s cheeks. “I should never speak to you again and delete your number from my phone and let everyone know that you’re dead to me.”

 

“That’s going kind of far,” he murmured, frowning slightly.   

 

“Do you think you deserve any kind of consideration for the way that you’ve treated me?”

 

He knew Adam was right; what could he say that was in any way justification for his actions? Even the truth was pathetic at this point.

 

Adam dropped his hands and took a step back and Kris regretted it. He watched as Adam ran his hand over his hair, dropping his eyes. “I don’t understand, Kris. You say we’re friends, but you don’t treat me like one. And when I kiss you, you don’t say stop. You kiss me back and you act like you want me. And then you just cut me off out of your life and…so this is the last time I’m going to ask, baby, but what the hell is going on?”  

 

He’d known Adam for a long time. He was a loyal friend, often too generous for his own good. But Kris suspected that if he didn’t actually tell Adam the truth, even if it was pathetic, that Adam really would walk away from Kris. Adam would regret it and be sad to do it, but Kris was certain that Adam would do it. 

 

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you. I’ve liked you for a long time, Adam. A _long_ time. Back when you were seeing Brad. When you weren’t seeing Brad. When you slept with everyone that wasn’t me,” he heard Adam inhale sharply and Kris stared at his foot because he wasn’t sure he could look at Adam while he said this, tracing along the floor tile with the toe of his shoe. “It’s kind of pathetic, really, how long I’ve been watching you…waiting for you. All those years, when you were with Brad, knowing that I couldn’t ever do anything about it. Pretty hopeless, you know? So I told myself that it was okay, we were friends, and I had that. It was supposed to be enough.” He let out a chuckle and raised his chin to look at Adam, who was watching Kris with wide eyes, a faint blush on his cheeks. “You said that I kept you at a distance; yeah, that’s right, I did. Because there was no other way.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Kris shrugged. “Tell you and then what? We’d start dating? You’d give up all your boys?”

 

“Yes. For you, _yes_.”

 

He stared up at Adam, saw the seriousness on his face, and swallowed thickly. “Yeah, right—“

 

“You didn’t even bother to find out.”

 

“So I’m a coward—“

 

“Damn it, Kristopher,” Adam said, moving back into Kris’s personal space, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of Kris’s hips. “Why do you think Brad and I fought all the time? Why we were trying so hard to have our public break up so we could finally end it and move on with our lives and see other people?”

 

“You said you didn’t want to be called a cheater—“

 

“Don’t play stupid,” he said, glaring at Kris. “Brad and I fought over _you_. Every single time. Practically every fight since we first met you – you’ve _always_ been a part of our relationship. He said that I was going to fuck it up for all three of us, that I’d end up chasing you away, that I wasn’t _mature_ enough for you yet. And you never gave a sign that you wanted me other than as a friend, so I backed off and left it alone. But I _knew_ you liked me. You can’t hide a damn thing on your face and everyone knows you wear your heart on your sleeve. I kept waiting for you to say something, but you never did, and I thought Brad was right, that if something happened, I’d end up fucking it up for us and I didn’t want to lose you like that.

 

“But when I kissed you that first time and you let me, you kissed me back, I was so excited because I finally got proof that I wasn’t alone in how I was feeling,” Adam said, his voice warm and low. “And I realized that I was being an asshole because…because the timing was awful…because I had just…with Brad…and then I was kissing you and…”

 

Kris bit his lip, his hands shaking as they settled on Adam’s hips. He stared into Adam’s blue eyes and saw his vulnerability, his hope that Kris would understand. He tightened his hold and then rubbed his palms against his narrow waist – Adam had lost too much weight again – and Kris smiled. Because he did understand and he was through hiding; he was through denying himself a chance at happiness with his best friend, someone he loved.

 

“Adam?”

 

Adam met his eyes, his perfectly arched eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Yeah?”

 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

 

He watched as a dozen emotions moved over Adam’s face – frustration, confusion, understanding, elation – and finally settling with a smile, his eyelids lowering slightly as he gazed at Kris’s mouth, arms curling around his back to pull him closer as he kissed Kris’s mouth.

 

Kris giggled into the kiss and dropped his hands between them to palm Adam’s hardness under his tight jeans. He felt Adam’s moan reverberate through his whole body and Kris undid his jeans – no surprise that Adam wasn’t wearing anything underneath – and pushed them down and out of the way. Adam broke the kiss and stared at him as Kris smirked, undoing his own jeans and shoving his jeans and briefs down to his thighs. He grabbed Adam by his hips and pulled them close, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks.

 

“Fuck,” Adam whispered, looking down between them. He groaned and pressed his opened mouth against Kris’s neck, licking and sucking and biting him, growling a little as he attached himself to Kris’s earlobe, as they rubbed against each other, Kris’s hand tightening and smoothing his thumb over both slick heads, closing his eyes at the feel of Adam’s hard length against his own, shifting their hips and grinding close.

 

Kris wasn’t going to last and he didn’t care. He wanted to come, he wanted Adam to come. He clung to Adam’s shoulder with his other hand, jerking both of them off with firm, fast strokes. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling Adam pant hot and wet breaths against his neck.

 

“Yeah, baby, keep going,” Adam whispered, thrusting his cock against Kris. “Keep going…just a little more… _ohhhh_ , God, Kris!”

 

He bit his bottom lip hard, feeling his body shudder and shatter with pleasure, his hand wet with his come and he groaned when he felt Adam join him, biting his neck, hands gripping his hips. He blushed at the loud squelch that his hand made on their cocks, burying his face against Adam’s neck.

 

It was fast and dirty, in a bathroom of all places, but Kris didn’t care. He laughed and lifted his head to look up at Adam, his face sweaty and ruddy, blue eyes pleased and lips pulled into a wide shit-eating grin.

 

“I can’t wait to take you home with me,” Adam told him, kissing him again and licking his bottom lip. He tugged Kris’s hand from between them and stared at Kris as he licked their come from Kris’s fingers.

 

“Ohhhh…” Kris managed, watching his long tongue sliding against his skin and he rose up on his tiptoes to capture Adam’s mouth, slipping his tongue into Adam’s mouth to _taste_ them on his tongue.

 

“God, you’re a dirty boy,” Adam said, chuckling at him.

 

He smiled and took a deep breath. “Adam, I’m in love with you.”

 

“Funny thing because I’m in love with you, too.”

 

Kris felt warm with pleasure and he dropped his forehead against Adam’s chest. “Timing sucks so much. I’m working on my demo EP and there’s so much for me and Cale to do and…and I don’t know how to tell Brad about this—“

 

Adam snorted, holding him. “Brad knows; he’s known for a long time. He’s not going to be upset.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“ _Brad_ told me that Cale was your new boyfriend,” Adam said, laughing. “He knew I’d be so jealous that I’d confront you.”

 

Kris laughed and looked up at him. “Cale’s straight.”

 

“Uh, yeah, duh,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “I figured that out when I talked to him. My gaydar works just fine, thank you very much. That’s when I knew that Brad was telling me to go for it.”

 

“Brad said something similar to me,” he murmured, kissing Adam’s throat. “Has he always known? Did you tell him?”

 

Adam smiled. “I didn’t have to; but yeah, he’s always known.” He paused, ducking his head. “I might have made him pretend to be you a few times…while I was fucking him.”

 

“Oh God!”

 

“He totally got off on it,” Adam whispered, chuckling. “Look, I know you’re focused on your music right now and I get it. If anyone does, I certainly do. So I’ll wait a little longer for you to finish your demo. Just...don’t keep ignoring me. You know I freak out when I’m left alone for too long with just my head for company.”

 

Kris laughed and nodded. “I promise it’s just until the demo gets done. Just…give me a few more days and then I’m all yours.”

 

Adam raised his eyebrow, smirking. “I’m going to keep you locked up in my house for a week, Kristopher. The only things you’re going to do is come, eat to keep up your strength, and sing for me.” Kris laughed, biting his lip at Adam’s look. “Maybe all three at the same time.”

 

“Alright, man, you have a deal.” He kissed Adam; he was overwhelmed with the fact that he could do this now. “ _Mmmm_ …I want to go home with you tonight but I can’t.” He had a wicked thought and he looked up at Adam. “I’m pretty sure Brad wouldn’t mind if we used his guest room.”

 

“Very tempting, Kristopher, but we can wait. I wouldn’t want you anywhere else than in my bed.”

 

“Fine,” he said, sighing loudly. He reached down and pulled up Adam’s jeans, gently adjusting him and zipping him back up. Adam smiled at him and wiggled his eyebrows as Kris pulled up his briefs and jeans next. Adam smoothed his hands over Kris’s head and kissed him. “I’m pretty sure Cale and I can be done in two days.”

 

“Okay, baby,” Adam murmured, licking at Kris’s lips.

 

“Maybe by tomorrow night,” Kris said, closing his eyes.

 

“Sure, whatever you say.”

 

“If Cale and I work through tonight and all through to tomorrow afternoon, we could be done by lunch time and I could come over.”

 

Adam kissed his cheek, his temple, his eyelid, his forehead, the tip of his nose. “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Kris murmured, lifting his face to chase after Adam’s lips. “It’s a date.”

 

***

 

**EPILOGUE: We Won’t Fall**

 

The secret invite-only show at _The Viper Room_ was for industry folks and media, but Kris and Cale invited their friends to see their first live performance and hoped to get signed. They had played countless times for Adam and Brad at their Bedrock rehearsal space, and worked through the feedback that they got from them.

 

_“You know you’re going to get signed,” Adam whispered against the back of his neck. “You don’t have to worry about it.”_

_Kris chuckled. “Even if we don’t, the guys and I will take our show on the road and play at every single small club in the country.”_

_“Mmmm…well, if you’re going to tour, then I’m not going to miss a second I have you here,” Adam said, kicking off the bed sheets and tackling Kris as he laughed._

 

“This is one of my favorite songs, so we just wanted to close out the show with this song. I think you guys’ll like it,” Kris said, grinning out at the audience and saw Adam blowing him a kiss.

 

“I…I’m so in love with you, whatever you want to do, is all right with me, ‘cause you make me feel so brand new, and I want to spend my life with you…”

 

He grinned as the audience started singing with him, whistling and cheering. He loved it when the crowd got going, joining in the fun.

 

“…let’s…[let’s stay together](http://youtu.be/rTzmq_zbMzE), lovin’ you whether, whether, times are good or bad, happy or sad…”

 

The crowd cheered when he finished the song. Kris was bouncing on his feet as he put the microphone back on the mic stand.

 

“Thank you, everybody!” He called, waving his hand. “Cale Mills, everyone. Chris Torres.” He turned to his two friends, exchanging smiles with them, clapping his hands and giving them a little bow. The crowd was still cheering and whistling. He grinned, bowing to them. “I’m Kris Allen. Thank you, everyone, for coming out tonight to see us. Thank you to The Viper Room for hosting our first performance. We’re really excited to be here and we’re all so glad that you guys came tonight to see us. Good night, everybody, we hope you had a good time!”

 

***

 

They all piled into a corner booth at a nearby 24-hour Denny’s, staring at the business cards from A&R reps who came to the show. Kris’s new public relations manager was busy scheduling interviews with a few music reporters for the next few days. The guys were talking excitedly about what to do next, but Kris thought that business could wait until later. He was too wired to make any smart business decisions right then. Instead, he turned his head and smiled at Adam, who curled his arm behind Kris’s shoulders, cuddling up next to him.

 

“I told you,” he whispered against Kris’s ear.

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“You were so good, Kristopher,” Adam told him, meeting his eyes.

 

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

 

Adam kissed the side of his head and chuckled. Kris knew that chuckle; it was the kind that Adam made when he had a plan in the works.

 

“What?”

 

“I was just thinking that if you signed with my label, we could tour together. You know, your band could open for me, until you got your professional feet wet a little, build up your fanbase.” Adam looked at the business cards on the table and tapped the one from _Mindscope Records_ with his index finger. “Just saying.”

 

Kris laughed, throwing back his head, looking at his boyfriend. _Mindscope Records_ treated Adam fairly; and Kris already had a friendly relationship with their management back when he worked as Brad’s PA. They used to call him in a panic when they needed his help with Adam.  

 

“You wouldn’t get sick of me on the tour bus with you, day in and day out? Sleeping in separate bunks? Getting crabby with each other because of cabin fever?” Kris teased, smiling.

 

Adam licked his lips and leaned closer to Kris’s ear and said, “don’t you know, baby, I get my own bus now.”

 

He made a face and stared up at Adam, cracking up. “You’re such a diva.”

 

“You love me.”

 

Kris smiled and nodded slowly. “I do.”

 

 

 

THE END.


End file.
